April Rain
by SomeRockerGirl
Summary: Maria Santiago is in desperate need of a job. Mort Rainey gives her an offer she cannot refuse, not in her situation. What happens when she meets him for the first time? Please R&R!
1. Meet Maria

A/N: Maybe I'm being hasty, trying to write two fics at once.[smiles] I commend those who can write more than two at one time. [bows]  
  
Disclaimer: Nothing that belongs to good old Stephen King  
  
Enjoy. (  
  
Maria Santiago sat at her kitchen table, reading the newspaper and eating a bowl of cinnamon Life. It was mid-April, and her ceiling started to leak rain. She pushed a bucket with her bare foot under the location of the dripping water. She skipped past the entertainment section, and paged through advertisements. She was in dire need of a job.  
  
She sighed and pushed the bowl of cereal away from her. Although it was April, it was muggy. She lifted up her hair and pulled it back in to a secure pony tail. She was thinking of cutting it, her red-brown hair gave a new definition to the word long.  
  
She already had a job. She worked at a small diner, Jabob's Diner, to be exact. The pay was little, and she owed money to the apartment, to her school, and to her friend who lent her well over $100 to pay some bills.  
  
She sat biting her dark blue fingernails and reading the ads over and over. Nothing. Nothing she could do, anyway. She turned the page, and her eyes fell on an ad that made relief flow through her veins.  
  
Like Cleaning?  
Need house cleaned every Tuesday and Thursday  
Approximately $20.00 every two hours  
Morton Rainey  
23987 Palm Drive  
Tashmore Lake, Maine 55234  
  
Morton Rainey. The name sounded familiar. She heard it recently, on the news or something. She knew he was a well-known writer, but he was known for something else. What was it?  
  
She thought maybe the guy was pretty old to want his house cleaned. Old rich people usually gave money away like free napkins. She looked at the ad again, and realized there wasn't a number. She sighed, at least the outing would do her good, and she could meet her future boss.  
  
Maria stood up, stretched and dumped her cereal in the garbage and placed the bowl in the sink.  
  
"23987 Palm Drive" Maria's Spanish accent rolled of her tongue in coherent syllables. She sat back in the leather seat. The steady rolling of the cab urged her to fall asleep. Tashmore Lake wasn't far, about twenty minutes away. She looked down and double checked to see she was at least presentable. She bit her lip. She was in too much of a hurry to get out of her apartment; she didn't even see what she threw on.  
  
She almost laughed at her appearance. She was wearing a wrinkled "The Distillers" shirt. Her black Converses stuck out of underneath the low flare of faded blue jeans she had on. She reached into her bag and brought out a compact mirror. At least her makeup wasn't running down her face. She licked her lips and stared out the rain-patterned window. Before she could see where she was, the car stopped. They were already there. She looked at her watch. Eleven minutes. Not bad.  
  
She watched the cab driver leave and almost wished she asked him to stay. She was standing on Morton Rainey's porch, staring at the front door. There weren't many other houses around the area. She didn't like the idea of a twenty-six year old girl standing on a stranger's doorstep. After a few minutes, she worked up the courage to knock.  
  
She didn't hear anything. What if he wasn't home? Better yet, how would she get home? She didn't have a cell phone, and it was raining. She wasn't about to walk back to her apartment in the rain. She knocked again, more urgent this time. Instantaneously, the door opened.  
  
Maria took a step back. Her employer was far from old.  
  
"I- I, uh-"Maria reached into her pocket and brought out the ad and shoved it into the stranger's hand. It wasn't the ad, it was a page out of a magazine she meant to tape to her wall. It was a poster of Kurt Cobain, her hero. Her face flushed a violent red. Even through her olive-toned skin, you could still see the shade of red. Mort Rainey only smiled.  
  
"You came for the job," Maria nodded, she looked at his deep brown eyes and her heart stopped. She remembered now.  
  
Murder. The man was known for murder. 


	2. Rain

Disclaimer: Nothing that is to Stephen King; my hero  
  
Enjoy Chapter 2 =]  
  
Maria took two steps backward. Mort narrowed his eyes at her.  
  
"Actually, I- um, I," She could feel the rain on her back now, she was moving off the porch. "I really have to go, how about I call you and I'll think about that offer?" She laughed nervously as Mort took a few steps toward her. He looked over her shoulder.  
  
"How are you getting-"He paused, "To wherever you're going next?" Maria bit her lip. She'd rather walk home at this point. She'd rather run.  
  
"I could walk, it isn't that far."  
  
"It's raining," Mort acknowledged the sky with a nod of his head.  
  
"Yes, I can see that," Maria tried to hide the sarcasm. Don't be sarcastic with a murderer. Marie almost laughed at her thought. She realized she was now in Mort's front yard, beckoning the rain. Mort stared at her disbelievingly. He walked out on to the front lawn and stood inches away from Marie.  
  
"You could catch something,"  
  
"Mmm."  
  
Mort glared at her. She wasn't prone to fact that she was soaked to the bone. Maria was now one with the water.  
  
"Come inside and you can call yourself a ride home, alright?" He smiled. Maria thought she would melt. Before she could answer, Mort turned around and started the walk back to his house. He stopped and held the screen door for her. He let out a sigh of frustration when he saw she hadn't moved from her spot on the lawn.  
  
You take one step through that door and you may not be coming back out.  
  
He doesn't have the face of a killer. He's too handsome.  
  
How would you know murderer from saint?  
  
It's just a strong feeling.  
  
Ignoring the strong protests in her head, Maria soon found herself in a clean... Very clean house. She was wondering if she read the ad correctly. She looked at her hand, which ached from clutching Kurt Cobain so tightly. She relaxed her grip, and saw color return to her white knuckles.  
  
"Here," Maria jumped. Mort's outstretched hand was holding a cordless phone. She took the phone, and took notice of a small "3". Tattoo.  
  
Mort watched as the girl sat down on a bench near the door. She was the first to ever actually sit on it. His ex-wife, Amy, bought it a few months back to put next to the telephone. But no one ever actually used it.  
  
He turned to go in to the kitchen. He smiled at the sound of her voice. Hispanic. No doubt.  
  
Maria, on the other hand, was trying with all the effort one could possess to keep her voice steady. The house was quiet. She tightened her grip on the small index card that had a little yellow cab on it. She put the crinkled Kurt Cobain picture in her bag.  
  
"Miss Santiago?" Maria jumped at the female voice that spoke to her through the receiver.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Would you please tell us the loca-"  
  
Maria's dark eyes widened in the dark.  
  
The line was dead. 


	3. Soaked Distillers

A/N: I may not be updating for a while, I'm going on vacation. [looks at sky] Thank you. Disclaimer: Allll Stephen King. Except for the lovely Maria Santiago.  
  
Maria never took the receiver away from her ear. She sat in the dark, listening to the long drone of a dead line. Her breathing and heartbeat overpowered it by a long shot.  
  
Okay, think rationally. At least this gives you and opportunity to get away. She thought, she slowly sat up, clutching the receiver in a her hand so tightly her hand felt numb. God, grant me the strength and courage to make it out that door. She prayed. It's been quite a while. She heard movement and nearly jumped out of her skin. She felt a large hand encircle her wrist. She screamed.  
  
"It's okay, only me," Mort coaxed. i Comforting /i. He pulled her into another room, that was lit only a few seconds by lightning. The thunder seemed to make the house vibrate. He let go of her wrist and she watched his silhouette fumble for something in the dark. She groped for something to sit on. She thought she was going to be awfully sick. She gave up when she heard a small 'phhttt' of a match. Mort was lighting candles.  
  
Maria shivered. She saw small puddles of water of where she stood. She wrapped her arms around herself. No good, she was freezing. She heard Mort chuckle.  
  
"Come with me, I could at least lend you a shirt," Maria looked at the distorted face on her dark blue shirt. The Distillers consumed most of the rain water. The pants weren't as bad.  
  
Maria felt like an automated robot. She didn't want to river-dance on a murderer's nerve. She quickly found herself in a well kept bathroom. No mirror.  
  
She peeled off the soaked shirt, and slipped on a dark blue sweatshirt. It smelled like cigarettes and a kind of cologne she couldn't identify. Whatever it was, the two didn't mix. She looked around for a place to hang her dripping shirt. She draped it over the side of Mort's tub.  
  
Maria looked around nervously. i Relax. He isn't showing any signs of wanting to send you with an early trip to the afterlife. /i She took several deep breaths. She looked through the door that led to Mort's bedroom. Clean. Very, very clean. There was an impurity to the ultra-clean room. There was a small bowler hat resting atop the blue bedspread. It stood out like a banana in a pistachio factory.  
  
Maria picked it up, and stared down at the brown hat. Almost instinctively, she put it on. She turned to find a mirror, but was out of luck. She was confident it looked fine. She picked up the candle Mort gave her and glided down the stairs. She started to relax. She felt good. Better than earlier, anyway.  
  
Mort was sitting on the couch, paging through some papers. The room was decked with candles. Well lit. He looked up at Maria with a grin, but the grin faded as his eyes fell on the hat. Maria's stomach took a slow, lazy turn. Good feelings gone.  
  
God, Mort didn't even know her name. "Where did you get that?" He sounded hysterical.  
  
Maria smiled. It was wan, but it was a smile. "I found it on your bed, I thought it added a nice touch." She took off the hat, feeling guilty. It probably belonged to someone important to him. Not to be touched. "Sorry," She looked up at Mort, and jumped back when she saw how close he was. He moved like a damned jaguar. She let him take that hat from her small hand.  
  
"Shouldn't be tamperin' with others' belongin's, missus." Maria grinned at the accent. It faded when she saw that Mort wasn't trying to be funny. Was it Mort? His soft face faded into... into... She backed away until she reached the wall.  
  
"Mr. Rainey-"  
  
"Ain't here, darlin'" Mort pressed her against the wall. Mort grinned, and ran a hand up her thigh. Maria tried to scream but it came out as a strangled gasp.  
  
"Don't fret hen, it'd only be the two of us,"  
  
A/N: Left you hangin' again. I'm not pleased with Maria, acting like such a pansy. [sighs] We'll have to fix that somewhere along the lines. Reviews are dandy =] 


	4. Cowardice

A/N: The long-awaited update. Sorry, my laptop went haywire and I couldn't update the story on vacation. Sorry. And bunches of love to the uplifting reviews  
  
Disclaimer: Mort. And his house. [sniff]  
  
And onward, fellow readers!  
  
Chapter Four: Cowardice  
  
Maria felt her only weapon was that if her heart beat through her chest, it could fly out and kill this man. His lips were now grazing her neck, sending shivers down her spine. A bit too friendly for the first impression.  
  
"You smell like the rain," He spoke. What did he say his name was? "I'm almost ashamed Mortybear is missin' out on all this fun." Maria notice the change in Mort's voice. Slow. Southern accent. What the hell was going on?!  
  
Maria's eyes started to ache as they darted around for something to hit him with. It wasn't any use, the room was lit, but not well enough. Her breathing became laborious.  
  
"It's been a while, for the both of us, me n Mort." This man wouldn't keep his hands off of her. "I'm glad I'm the first to reach you before he does." He paused and pressed his lips to her ear. "But after our little fun I'd have to git rid of you. I don't like sharin' women."  
  
Maria remembered about hearing somewhere that when people are frightened or angry, or both, they somehow find a supernatural strength to do things normal people can't do. Like lifting cars off of toddlers, and whatnot. She found that was true today. This guy probably had over thirty pounds on her, and needless to say she wasn't any macho-woman. But she mustered all that willpower and flung him off. She tried to remember something from a movie, where she saw this woman FBI agent kick some guy's ass.  
  
Mort came after her with anger, and lust. Was it Mort? After taking an overview, Mort didn't look like a writer any longer. He looked like a first- class murderer. The kind that only killed for pleasure. Nope, not the guy she met earlier.  
  
No time to remember any movies. She had to get the hell out of there. She turned, tripped, and fell. Conked her head on something hard. Maria's assailant tripped over her, and darkness ate her like a spider during feeding time.  
  
i "Gooooooood Morning, Hermon, Maine! It looks as if it will rain AGAIN today..." /i  
  
Maria groaned and sat up in her bed that took up half of her bedroom. ... HER bed?!  
  
She sat up, and groaned again as her head swam. She fell back until the green dots that danced in her line of vision ceased. She looked at her alarm clock that was now pronouncing that The Darkness was coming to downtown Falmouth, and saw the time. 10:32 AM. Late for work at Jacob's. Wasn't her first. She'd been late six times, she guessed a seventh wouldn't do her harm. She sat up slowly, and rubbed her eyes. She looked down, and saw a faded dark blue sweatshirt.  
  
Mort Rainey.  
  
As if almost on cue, she heard movement above the happy chatter coming from her clock. She got up, her body acute on adrenaline. She froze when she heard a door shut. She clicked off the radio and listened. She listened for what seemed like hours.  
  
Nothing. Maria was alone.  
  
Maria relaxed her shoulders and walked into the kitchen. She stared at what was decorating her table.  
  
Roses. Yellow roses. And a piece of notebook paper.  
  
She approached them slowly, as if they might come out and swallow her whole. She unfolded the paper to reveal scrawled writing. There wasn't a greeting.  
  
I can't tell you how sorry I am. Never in a million years would that  
happen. I thought I had it under control... I'm really, really sorry,  
Maria.  
  
Maria looked up. Did she tell him her name?  
  
I'd like a chance to explain. If you're still willing to take the job  
I had offered, you could stop by.  
  
"HA!" Maria startled herself by her sudden outburst.  
  
I'd really like a chance to explain. Please.  
  
Mort Rainey  
  
No number. This man is outrageous.  
  
But they were roses. Beautiful roses.  
  
The phone rang. Maria was on the brink of pissing her pants.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Where in Satan's hell are you?!" Maria winced. Good ol' Jacob.  
  
"Sorry, I've had one hell of a night. I-"  
  
"No more excuses, Maria." Well, Jacob was clearly pissed.  
  
"I'm sorry, I'm on my way now."  
  
"No you ain't. You're fired, missy." Maria froze. Either she's crazy or she heard him wrong.  
  
"Wh-What?"  
  
"FIRED" Buzz of an empty line.  
  
"Hell."  
  
Maria sat at her table and stared intently at a flower-printed tile. "What the fuck now?" She rested her aching head on her hands.  
  
It was either live in a box, or get killed by Mort Rainey.  
  
The box sounded inviting.  
  
Maria, once again, found herself in front of Mort Rainey's house. Yes, it is official. I believe they should come take me and put me into the loony's bin. It seemed that it always rained around this man's house. She heard movement in the house and then saw a dark figure come towards the door.  
  
Although she didn't knock.  
  
The door swung open and Maria looked into the deep brown eyes of Mort Rainey. She got a kick out of that name and laughed hysterically in the cab. The driver even thought she was insane. She's met a lot of men, but NONE of them had eyes like that. None had those dark, mesmerizing.... Enchanting eyes.  
  
He smiled. "You got guts, kid."  
  
Maria found her voice. "I need a job." She stepped inside.  
  
The house looked like Mort led in Taz from Looney Toons and let him chase Bugs Bunny. It was, needless to say, a big, fucking trash-hole.  
  
"Sorry about the mess... I really didn't expect you to come back." He led her in to the living room, which was bombarded with paper. Most had "Shooter" written on it. Red ink. It was like re-living a horror movie.  
  
Maria started to wonder if this man had come into contact with a murderer with a gun, or was trying to prove to her he was a nutcase.  
  
"Coke?" Maria took the bottle and stared at it. ITS POISONED, is what her mind screamed. Mort sat beside her. Maria waited for her heart to try and pound its way through her chest, but it didn't come.  
  
Mort chuckled. "You know, last time I had a pretty girl in this house was my ex-wife, Amy."  
  
First thought that popped into Maria's head was: Oh my God, he killed his wife!  
  
"We're divorced." He took a sip from his Coke. He tried not to notice she wasn't drinking hers. It started to rain. It was daylight, thank God.  
  
Mort looked at Maria. She only gazed at the scattered papers.  
  
"How did you know my name?" She was surprised she was making small talk. This was truly a feat. She mentally slapped herself when she remembered her necklace that she had since she was seven. The one that bore her name.  
  
Mort pointed to her necklace. She backed away from his finger.  
  
"You know where I live?"  
  
"On the tag of your purse," Another mental slap for Maria. Well, great. The killer knew where she lived.  
  
"I guess I should explain to you... what in the hell happened last night."  
  
A/N: Well. I guess that will have to do for now.  
  
IRULEYOUALL: Kurt Cobain is the lead singer of Nirvana. [laughs] Its okay, he isn't my hero. My friend is in love with him... er, in love with his corpse. Suicide. Very sad. [smiles] I think its better if people don't know who Johnny Depp is. I don't want to divide him up between other to-become obsessed fans. He will remain ours. Bwahahaha 


	5. Rendezvous

A/N: Must... write... Another... Chapter [gasps for air]  
  
Disclaimer:[sniff] All Stephen King's. Except for Maria. Like who wants her anyway?  
  
Chapter 5: Rendezvous  
  
Maria only stared at her sofa companion. She MUST have heard him wrong. Either way, there was a dull pounding in her head. Threatening to give her a headache.  
  
"Writing a story is like," Mort paused thoughtfully. "Being God." He smiled. Maria thought if he did that again she would be reduced to a puddle. "You create a world with humans or animals and give them life. You... form their characteristics and their personalities." He looked into his empty Coke bottle. "I guess I carried it too far this time,"  
  
"S-So," Maria swallowed. She was lost for words, putting it lightly. "Is it possible? Haven't you told anyone?" Maria didn't like that her voice was betraying her. All in all, fear wasn't part of her now, it was i concern /i. Was it?  
  
Mort looked at her with his deep brown eyes. "Well, if there is such a thing... I mean, if there is a God who could simultaneously love us enough to serve us His own Son on a slab of wood and send us all on a rocket-sled to hell just because some stupid bitch bit a bad apple, and then yes, it is certainly possible."  
  
Maria let out something between a laugh and a harsh sigh. The sound scared her, really. "When sh-could I start the job?" Classic, she thought. This man pours out his damn conscience and you're worried about getting his house cleaned.  
  
Mort looked at the ceiling with vague interest. "Tomorrow? Perhaps ten?"  
  
Maria yawned and asked herself the same thing over and over before reaching to knock on Mort Rainey's door. She didn't sleep well the previous night... you could imagine why. It's not everyday you get to clean a house for a paranoid schizophrenic, nor do you have the strength and will to keep going back to his house, knowing that you can be chopped into kitty chow in seconds.  
  
But, Mort Rainey, not Shooter, kept her coming back.  
  
Maria paused mid-knock. Had she actually put that thought into her head?  
  
She remembered Mort telling her there wasn't a need to knock, the door would be open.  
  
Nonetheless, Maria felt strange walking into a murderer's house like she knew it so well.  
  
Stop calling him that. Just stop it.  
  
Surprised again, Maria was greeted by papers strewn all over the floor.  
  
None were marked with "Shooter".  
  
This made it less intensifying.  
  
So she stood there, in the midst of the scattered papers, wondering what she should do. Where she should start.  
  
It didn't look like Mr. Rainey/Shooter was home.  
  
Mr. Rainey.  
  
Mr. i Rainey /i, you dipshit.  
  
Maria took a deep breath and took out her walkman. She pressed "play" and began to big up the blank papers.  
  
i "Your love is a razorblade kiss; sweetest is the taste from your lips..." /i  
  
Ville Valo screamed at her through the headphones. The headphones delivered some kind of comfort. At least, Maria didn't have to clean Mort Rainey's bedroom in silence. She would have to start talking to herself. Couldn't have that, could we?  
  
Although the music was on full blast, the silence screamed at her.  
  
She could hear it through her phones.  
  
Maria worked quickly. The sooner she got out of the place, the better. The sky held a lid of dark clouds, and the wind rose, making the windows vibrate and disrupting the silence. Her hand stopped on a yellow pad of paper. There was writing on it, not a lot.  
  
He's a famous writer, he probably writes in his sleep.  
  
She started to read the first sentence.  
  
Don't read it! No, you musn't read it!  
  
i "He didn't expect it. Of course, who would expect a pretty girl on his doorstep on a rainy Tuesday night? She seemed frightened of him the minute she looked at his face, and backed away. She-"  
  
It cut off there.  
  
Her music was off. The silence was thickening.  
  
He's standing right behind you. He's going to be right out pissed you read his little paper.  
  
Maria froze. Her grip tightened on the pad and she sat on Mort's bed, afraid to even breathe.  
  
Relief coursed through her veins when a door from downstairs was slammed shut. She put the pad of paper back on the nightstand and walked downstairs to finish off the kitchen. She would be done soon after.  
  
But she didn't find Mort.  
  
Mort wasn't there at all.  
  
All that could be seen was a large paper pinned to the front door with a steak knife. In large red letters:  
  
"RUN"  
  
A/N: Got quite a knack for them cliffhangers [winks] You know the drill. 


	6. Run

A/N: Sorry for the wait, dolls. Testing out another story, "The Reaper Holds Our Hearts," Check it out. =]  
  
Disclaimer: What is Stephen King's, is Stephen King's.  
  
Chapter Six – Shooter at Hand. hr  
  
Maria was sure when the shock was over, she i would/i run.  
  
"Run fast, darlin'. I tousled the rooster's feathers, and they're out on a wild goose chase." Shooter spoke behind her. Above the sweet sound of Ville Valo's voice, Maria could hear distant sirens. Police cars.  
  
"I'm gonna give you about ten, missus." She heard him step closer. "One, two" The sound of the wailing sirens approached, now closer. Shooter shuffled nervously. "Nine, Te-"  
  
He jumped out and grabbed Maria by the hair, making her scream. She saw a flash of blue and red, and a car door slam. She gulped as she heard them pound on the door, signaling they were bursting in. Maria whimpered when she felt a gun barrel dig into her throat. She looked worriedly at the two policemen aiming their pistols at Shooter/Mort.  
  
"Don't move, gentlemen, or the lil' lady gets it. It will be quite a mess to clean up." He snickered.  
  
"Now, Mr. Rainey, I just need you to come with me." The younger policeman reached for his cuffs.  
  
"DON'T YOU MOVE, DAMNIT!" Shooter shot the gun, deafening the two policemen. Maria felt warm blood glide down her neck.  
  
i Oh my God, I'm dead. I'm dead, he shot me. Oh God, I'm dead. /i  
  
The bullet only skimmed her neck, burning the flesh around it.  
  
"Mr. Rainey-"  
  
"He ain't here, pilgrim." Shooter spoke in slow vowels.  
  
"... I want to know what you have to do with the burning down of the Spring Flower Apartments."  
  
Maria choked. i What did he say?! /i  
  
"Don't know anythin'. Get the hell out."  
  
"I'm afraid we can't do that, Mr. Rainey."  
  
Maria closed her eyes as she heard five gunshots, and watched in horror as the two policemen slumped to the floor. Shooter's gun went to the floor with them, and he let go of Maria. She didn't move, but only gaped at the two dead men at Mort Rainey's front door.  
  
Her hand went to her neck, and she winced in pain. When she removed it, it was painted red with blood. Maria felt lightheaded, and fainted.  
  
i "Oh Maria, Maria. She reminds me of a west side story. Growing up in Spanish Harlem. She's living the life just like a movie star" /i  
  
Maria groaned and tried to brush away the wet cloth at her forehead. Her eyes opened slowly, and took in the surroundings of... Not Mort Rainey's House.  
  
Mort hummed the rest of the melody softly. "You alright?" He acknowledged the small welt forming on her neck. It had stopped bleeding. Maria looked at the beat up table in the middle of the room, and saw a small dish with red liquid in it. She nodded, regardless of the pain coursing through her neck and head as she did so.  
  
She bit her lip as it came back to her. i Shooter. Shot two policemen. Burned down my apartment building. Sliced my neck with a bullet. /i  
  
She cowered in fear as the man before her rose. "Who are you?"  
  
Mort sighed and took the pail and dumped the red fluid outside the small, petite house. Maria sat up, and began to back towards the nearest door that led to the outside world. Mort didn't budge, and pretended not to notice her.  
  
In one clumsy movement, Maria kicked open the door and ran outside. She stopped when she realized where she was.  
  
In the middle of nowhere. Surrounded by green fields, and a small pond. There wasn't even a road.  
  
"Oh my God. I'm being held hostage by a paranoid schizophrenic." She muttered, but Mort heard her and chuckled. She whirled around. "Where the i hell /i are we?!"  
  
"The more peaceful side of New Hampshire," Maria's eyes widened. "Shooter burned down your house, and then mine. He saved my car, and my wallet."  
  
Maria crossed her arms. "Did he bring his magical hat too?" Mort looked at her incredulously. Half of her told her to cut the sarcasm before she was found at the bottom of a lake by paramedics and policemen.  
  
"I can't help what he does." Mort said with an edge in his voice.  
  
"You're going to have to as long as I'm here," Maria bit her tongue. Yes, maybe that will stop her. She tasted blood as Mort came closer, making the wooden floor boards whine.  
  
"I think I'm in charge here, Maria. What I say goes." Maria's dark eyes ran to Mort's shoes. She meant for that to happen to conceal what was the roll of her eyes. She almost screamed when Mort grabbed her neck and kissed her full on the lips.  
  
"What I say goes." He let her go and stalked off to somewhere else in the empty cabin. Maria touched her lips, and went outside.  
  
She stared out across the pond and into the menacing woods beyond it. She scowled, "God, it wasn't i that /i good of a kiss anyway." And lied through clenched teeth. Maria wasn't afraid of Mort.  
  
She was afraid of Shooter.  
  
Mort just made her insane. Was she really thinking of them as if they were two different people? Sighing, Maria glanced over at Mort's car.  
  
i I've been taught how to hotwire one... i Don't even think about it. Even if you do get away, he'll find you. And when he's finished with you, he can feed you to your cat. /b  
  
I don't have a cat.  
  
b You know what I mean. And another thing, you like Mort. /i  
  
Maria widened her eyes.  
  
i What?! I do NOT.  
  
b Ha. Whatever. You go all Jell-o when he's around. I haven't a problem. The man is quite the babe. /i  
  
Maria sneered. She did i not/i like Mort.  
  
"Sorry," Maria whirled around and found Mort leaning against the doorframe. He pushed himself off and walked towards her. "I brought you into this mess. And I'm sorry." Maria's eye twitched.  
  
i Just do it, you coward. /i  
  
She yanked Mort's head down and crushed her lips into his. He wrapped his own arms around her waist as she pulled him closer.  
  
i You're dead, love. i That's it. Stare at the table. That will fix everything. /i  
  
"Shut up," Maria muttered. Mort's robe was rough against her bare skin as she sat on the shitsplat couch in the middle the room beneath the second floor.  
  
Beneath the second floor, where Mort slept after hearing Maria scream out his name; where he thought she was still asleep beside him  
  
Maria was far from sleep.  
  
So was Shooter.  
  
"Hello, missus." He drawled in her ear.  
  
hr  
  
A/N: That was quite short. Sorry. Well, review on.  
  
b I'm killing Eve Of Destruction. I've got nothing to save it. I'm thinking about destroying The Reaper Holds Our Hearts, also. It doesn't fit the critique.  
  
That is all. 


	7. Shoot Her

A/N: I apologize greatly for the long wait on this chapter. I just fixed my computer, so this should work. =) School starts soon, so the updating might slow down to a minimum folks.  
  
Disclaimer: Stephen King owns Mort Rainey [sobs]  
  
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- "Hello, missus," Shooter drawled in her ear. "It's a mite late to be sittin' around in nuttin' but a bathrobe, ain't it?"  
  
Maria's stomach made an indefinite sound before she decided to answer. "Oh it's never to late for that, Mr. Shooter."  
  
"Well, I do think it is too late to explain to you, again, about how I dun like sharin' women."  
  
Maria heard the cloth rip on the back of the old sofa, and turned around so quickly that she fell off and landed on the wooden floor. Mort's face looked down on her, his hand closed over what looked like a letter opener, and a maniacal grin was plastered to his face. Maria choked on her words, and backed away on all fours.  
  
"Now, I'm sorry missus but I don't like explainin' things twice."  
  
Maria's eyes widened when her hand enclosed on half of a brick that held one end of the demented coffee table. Staring at a coffee table always had it's advantages, like if you were being chased by a murderer, for instance. It's good to know the table's qualities in case you need it for self defense.  
  
"Well, Mr. Shooter, I don't either. So listen, I don't respond very lightly to being threatened." Maria snatched the small heavy brick, and ignored the table's broken leg that hit the floor with a loud thug and sent the contents on top to spill to the ground, and heaved the cold, red item at Shooter's lower abdomen.  
  
At least it slowed him down.  
  
Maria ran upstairs and into the bedroom expecting… what? For Mort to be there and wake him up and tell him that his evil twin tried to kill her with a letter opener? Maria locked the door and stood back. If any work went into the cabin at all, it was into the doors. They were thick and heavy, and this one had a lock.  
  
There was silence at first, compared to the first thundering footsteps that trailed behind Maria when she ran. She whipped around and looked at the small and only window in the small room. No human body could fit through it. That sent some strike of relief.  
  
"Maria? He's agone now, you can open the door now, its me, Mort."  
  
Maria stared at the door in silent horror. The accent of the voice was forced and slow, if that was Mort, he had developed a serious speech imperilment over the last few hours.  
  
"FUCK OFF, YOU SCREWED UP HICK!" Maria screamed, and was received with more silence. She figured Shooter finally gave up, but to make sure she walked slowly to the door and pressed her ear against it.  
  
The letter opened was thin enough to fit through the crack where the door met the doorframe, and sliced Maria's cheekbone, causing her to bleed and scream again.  
  
Shooter instantly started pounding the door, and not knocking either. But the door held. Maria grabbed the end of the bed in the corner and kicked the mattress off with all its dressings and shoved it against the door, and placed the mattress back on it along with her body. The pounding was extremely loud, and Maria tried hard not to cry.  
  
"Stop fussin' missus, it'll hurt less if you do!" Shooter cried on the other side of the door. Maria clutched a pillow in her arms, her only use of self defense besides a belt. She was shaking rather badly, the continuous pounding giving her a headache.  
  
In the dim moonlight, Maria spotted the ominous black hat sitting where the bed had been. Out of anger, Maria picked up her pants and searched frantically for her lighter. She picked up the hat and rotated it around the flame until it caught. It grew quickly, and Maria struggled to open the window and threw it out. After closing the window, the pounding immediately stopped, and was greeted by more silence.  
  
Maria swiped the hair out her face and tried to calm her loud gasps for air. In her walk back to the small bed, a loud thump was heard from outside. Maria froze and waited for anything else. Nothing.  
  
Sitting back on the bed, the springs whining in protest, Maria clutched the pillow and buried her face in it. It smelled like whatever shampoo Mort used. The silence was scary in its own way, but sleep found Maria soon enough.  
  
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Maria woke up to the soft sound of voices. The sun was already high in the sky, signaling that she had slept in, indicating that she had slept at all. She got up and tightened the string around the robe and walked to the window and looked down, and almost screamed when she saw an elderly policeman talking to Mort.  
  
"I thought we were in the middle of fucking nowhere." She whispered to the glass pane. Maria watched as the policeman crossed his arms over his chest. Maria figured that if they weren't in the middle of nowhere, she COULD find the keys to Mort's car and drive until she found it. How long would it take Mort to get into a vehicle and come find her?  
  
The policeman began to leave, still in one piece. Shooter wasn't present, or the policeman would have been food for the fishes in that little pond.  
  
Mort stared out into the woods, and Maria clumsily put her clothes back on and crept down the stairs and took one more peak at Mort, who was smoking a cigarette, still staring fixedly into the distance.  
  
Maria had found the keys lying lazily under Mort's shirt, and allowed her access to Mort's car. Pushing open the door as softly as she could, Maria walked outside into the humidity of April. The ground crunched beneath her feet as it steadily began to rain. Maria walked a little faster, the rain would invite Mort to come back into the cabin.  
  
Maria yanked the driver's door open and climbed inside and looked at the keys blindly. She closed and locked the doors, not even noticing that the window was open.  
  
"Okay, okay." Maria tried two keys that wouldn't go into the ignition. She tried to calm her self.  
  
"What the hell are you doing?" Maria dropped the keys and jumped back when Mort's face and dampening hair greeted the side of the dark green car. Maria only stared at him.  
  
"Oh, you know. Enjoying the view."  
  
"From inside my car?"  
  
"Well, it is raining outside."  
  
"That never seemed to bother you before." Mort grinned as he acknowledged their first meeting when Maria refused to enter his house. She bent down to pick up his keys when Mort looked up at the sky, and silently tried more keys, not taking her eyes off of Mort. One slid in the ignition.  
  
Maria started conversation to distract him. "You said we were stranded, what was a policeman doing here?"  
  
Mort raised his eyebrows. "I never said that. And he said that there was a thief loose, and he was wondering if anything was stolen recently." Maria laughed nervously. i There's more than just a thief loose./i  
  
"I saw your nice piece of artwork on the ground this morning." Maria raised a questioning eyebrow, still searching for the courage to turn the key and drive. "You killed Shooter's hat."  
  
Maria smiled. "He paid a visit last night," Her heart throbbed when Mort eyed her hand that was on the other side of the wheel holding on to the key for dear life.  
  
"Yeah, I figured that when I woke up outside my bedroom on the floor." iI was supposed to wake up next to you, is what he means to say./i  
  
"Mmm," Maria looked down at her lap, and then back at Mort. "You know you're getting soaked?"  
  
"You haven't invited me in yet," Mort grinned seductively. i NOW, NOW, NOW, NOW, DUMBASS!/i  
  
Maria turned the key so fast it scared her. Mort was knocked off his feet as mud spewed out from under the tires, the car was still in park and refused to move anywhere. Maria punched the gear, her hand flying to the key in the ignition and bending the metal so that it was almost a 90 degree angle in the ignition. The side of the key lodged into the interior above the ignition, the car turned off. Maria tried turning the key but it wouldn't move.  
  
"Shit. iShit!/i." Maria screamed when Mort's hand grabbed the wheel. Mud covered his shirt.  
  
"You can't leave." iDamn right, I can't. I just fucking broke the key./i He reached in and unlocked the door and opened it. Maria held back a whimper. "Maria, I… You can't leave, alright?"  
  
ibHe's adorable when he stammers, you know that?/b/i  
  
Maria sighed. Mort was now soaked and partially covered in thick brown mud. Maria stepped out of the car and joined Mort in the rain. Shooter's hat was destroyed, and it stopped him, didn't it?  
  
What a revelation.  
  
Shooter had to be gone. The hat was gone and buried in its own ashes. Maria wanted to pat herself on the back, but was pulled into a savory kiss.  
  
"No more Shooter," Maria whispered to Mort's shoulder.  
  
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A/N: Yay, another chapter done. Well, you know what to do =) 


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